"Skye, here's five hundred thousand yuan. Move the firm's business online as soon as possible."
"Okay, boss, I promise I'll get it done."
Skye was good at separating life from work. On the job, he stuck to titles. Off the clock, he went with "brother."
"Brother, are we heading back to Chinatown?"
"Not for now." Finnian Murdock pulled a cassette tape from his pocket—the transformation tape of the mechanical dog. "I've already pulled out of the store. Here, keep this for protection."
"Huh?" Skye turned the tape over in her hands several times, unable to see what was special about it.
"Darkie." Finnian gave the command.
Click—clack—click.
The tape dropped from Skye's hand and unfolded into a towering mechanical dog, wagging its tail like the world's most loyal lackey.
After a beat of stunned silence, Skye let out a shriek of awe.
"Brother, is this another alien Autobot?"
"Darkie's a Decepticon—sworn enemy of the Autobots. Just make sure you bring him with you when you go out."
Skye instinctively grabbed Finnian's arm.
"Don't worry," Finnian assured her. "He's very obedient."
"Late-night snack?"
"Yeah."
Behind the wheel of the Porsche 911—Phantom's transformed body—Finnian couldn't help admitting a fact: traffic jams didn't feel as brutal anymore.
No wonder.
Back when he drove a Mazda, people cut him off constantly, or boxed him in.
Now? Nobody dared cut off a Porsche.
Since disappearing after the fight with Hulk and Abomination, Finnian's popularity had swelled like a dammed-up river. Attention just kept piling higher and higher.
He had no choice but to pick a restaurant with private rooms.
"Brother, you really shouldn't go out casually anymore."
"It'll calm down after a while."
Right now, the Marvel movie universe had just cracked open. There weren't many superheroes around yet.
The so-called "symbol of America"? Captain America, a seventy-year-old antique dug out of ice.
Later, once the Avengers formed, heroes would pop up everywhere—Spider-Man, Doctor Strange, Black Panther, Scarlet Witch…
People would get used to it.
But for now, while superheroes were still rare, Finnian's every move drew too much attention.
And the real problem? There wasn't a natural opportunity for him to shine.
What was he supposed to do—invite villains over just to punch them?
"Hm?" Finnian's eyes lit up. "Or maybe… something's about to happen."
Why sit around waiting for the perfect stage to appear, when you could build the stage yourself?
Being a superhero? Pfft. Child's play.
Honestly, if being the "guy in charge" didn't pay better, Finnian would never bother playing the caped crusader, soaking up fame just to win voters later.
He wasn't like Captain America, craving the spotlight to make up for a lifetime of being ignored.
Finnian just wanted to make money.
And what was the fastest way to make money?
Stocks? You had to wait for the market to move.
But as the man in charge? You didn't wait for the market—you created it.
Sound familiar?
This world was basically a sandbox. Finnian's mindset had shifted—from questioning the so-called "King of Understanding," to becoming the King of Understanding, and soon, surpassing him.
And honestly? He didn't feel a shred of guilt.
Money was beautiful. And making it wasn't shameful.
"Ding ding ding~" The phone yanked him out of his scheming.
"You're at my place? Alright, we're coming back now."
Skye put her fork down. "What's wrong, boss?"
"Tony's dropping by. Let's wrap it up and head home."
If it were anyone else, Finnian wouldn't have budged. But Stark? That man had given too much already.
Even Finnian—cold-blooded as he was—felt guilty making Iron Man wait at the door.
Ten minutes later, Hyde Garden Villa No. 1.
"Brought food."
Tony Stark walked in holding a bag. "Picked up some burgers on the way. Try them—they're good."
Same old Tony. Still obsessed with burgers.
Noticing Stark seemed serious, Skye politely excused herself. "Brother, I'll let you guys eat. I'm heading upstairs to play some games."
Only then did Tony speak.
"Murdock… do you still have that serum?"
"Huh?" Finnian thought Stark wanted another dose and quickly explained. "One shot is enough. More won't stack or make the effect stronger."
"That's not it," Tony said quickly. "I want Pepper to have one too."
"Pepper?"
Finnian paused. "Maybe later. We're out of stock right now."
God only knew when the damn system would refresh the serum. The only thing it seemed to restock consistently was… Black Widow stockings.
Truly a bottom-tier system.
Tony's expression said, Figures.
When they'd first met, he already suspected Finnian had the backing of some secret lab. Otherwise how did you explain things like the White Tank Armor, the mechanical dog, and the super-soldier serum?
And just thinking about a lab like that sent sparks through Tony's brain.
A Murdock Industries rivaling Stark Industries?
No wonder Finnian loved money. Funding armor like the White Tank required mountains of it.
The thought made Tony burn with interest. He needed in.
"Murdock… do you need capital injection?"
"Capital injection?" Finnian raised a brow. "For what?"
Tony rubbed his hands together. "C'mon, it must've cost a fortune building the White Can Armor and running that dog lab. If cash flow's tight, I can sponsor you."
"Really? With Stark Industries' stock halved, you still have spare cash to burn?"
Tony froze. Fair point.
After he'd shut down the weapons division, the stock had tanked. His net worth took a massive hit.
But he'd already lined up a new play—clean energy and micro-reactors. Stark Industries would transform into an energy-tech powerhouse and bounce back.
During this crucial window, though, he couldn't cash out shares.
In fact, he should be buying them back.
Which meant… yeah, cash was tight.
"Not a big deal," Tony said after a pause. "It'll take some time, but I'll get the money for your lab."
"Alright." Finnian didn't refuse.
If Tony thought the "system" was just a hidden lab, let him.
That way, the truth stayed perfectly hidden.
"Pleasure doing business," Tony said.
"Pleasure's mine."
"Oh, by the way, Tony…" Finnian leaned forward.
"If I wanted to run for the House of Representatives—could you help me?"